


The Escape

by xxktrxx



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Just more gay stuff, Somewhat established relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxktrxx/pseuds/xxktrxx
Summary: “Get out,” she ordered, and both women were gone in seconds, making their way down opposite ends of the corridor. Zulema climbed up onto her bed, grabbing a book from her shelf and using it as a shield as she flipped the phone open. One text message sat waiting for her, from a number she didn’t recognize - Macarena’s throwaway number.‘Call me.’ORThe one where Macarena tries to get Zulema out of prison with the help of a few friends.Sequel to “The Visit.”
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 88
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh i’m sorry to keep y’all waiting; and I’m sorry this chapter doesn’t have more meat - I started a full time job this week and can only really get on at night when I’m exhausted so please bear with me!

Patience was most definitely a virtue. Obviously, Macarena wasn’t going to get Zulema out of there overnight - she’d had to come up with a plan first, and that in itself would take a few weeks, so long as Zulema was behind the scenes helping her. She was the brilliant mind, after all. 

They got the privacy they needed once a month. After no unusual activity in Zulema after their first conjugal visit, Palacios stopped focusing so much attention on their pairs bedroom activities, and signing the requests for their visits became almost second nature - he figured if this was the way to keep Zulema Zahir docile, it was worth it. He was a trusting man. Stupid, but trusting. 

Usually, that privacy was evenly split between focusing on one another, and focusing on the plan - okay, so...55/45. It wasn’t unusual for their conjugal visits to be a mess of bodies and limbs, with sighs and whispers of their plot mixed in with the pleasure. If anything, the idea of escaping and finally being free turned Zulema on more, and the sound of Macarena’s soft voice whispering about it into the older woman’s ear while her fingers were inside her was more than enough to finish her off. 

These visits weren’t  _ always _ approved. Zulema could mostly control herself in prison, but she was only human - she reacted when prompted to, and still found herself in unwanted altercations with other inmates that on more than one occasion prevented her from seeing Macarena. But she was staying out of solitary, and that was what was going to be most important. 

“Have you talked to Saray?” Maca asked softly as her fingers twirled black hair around her knuckles, head resting on Zulema’s shoulder as they lay naked atop the bed of the conjugal room. Zulema stared quietly up at the ceiling, her own fingers running softly up and down Macarena’s back mindlessly. She hummed back with a positive tone, and Macarena sat up, knowing they had to move before a guard came through the door and  _ watched _ them get dressed. They only had a few minutes. “What’d she say?” She asked, running a hand through her blonde hair and beginning to pick her clothing up from the floor. Her body ached already, and the scratches on her back stung lightly as she pulled her shirt over her head and down her chest. Zulema watched on with silent admiration, taking her time - she had a lot less to throw on than the other did. 

If Saray wasn’t on board, it would complicate things - but they would power on. Their offer, however, had Macarena almost convinced that Saray wouldn’t turn her back on them. Or, at least, Zulema. “She will be meeting with her cousin as soon as the green light is given.” Zulema explained with a nod, taking her bright yellow pants from the floor beside them and slowly pulling them up around her waist. Macarena nodded in understanding, beginning to put her hair up before moving to put on her shoes. “And Goya?” Zulema asked a moment later, slipping her tank top on followed by her button up. 

Maca nodded in understanding to the question, zipping up her boots. “I’m headed to her now,” she explained, standing and smoothing her jeans down. Zulema took the opportunity to grip Maca’s hips gently with her hands, fingers curling into the belt loops and pulling her closer. Macarena laughed airily at the motion, arms wrapping around the woman’s neck with a sweet grin. The tip of her nose ran slightly over Zulema’s, before she closed the space between them with a tender kiss. 

These were silent ‘I love you’s’ even if neither woman admitted it; as stated before, words were not their best form of communication. And while Zulema would never say it out loud, the soft kisses were the ones that made conjugal visits worth waiting for. 

Mid-kiss, the door opened and Millán waited with a clear throat, arms crossed over her chest. “Times up. No touching.” She instructed clearly, trying to avert her gaze from the scene in front of her. Maca pulled away first in annoyance, sighing as she stepped back from Zulema and watched the woman get cuffed once more. 

“ _ Adios,” _ Zulema winked towards the blonde as Millán escorted her away, leaving Macarena in the room alone until another guard began to usher her down the opposite end of the hallway. 

——

“No, Goya - you’re not going to have sex with him,” Macarena shook her head in clarification and Goya looked at the blonde with confusion riddled on her face. Macarena sighed, running her hands over her face in exhaustion - usually she was able to leave the prison after seeing Zulema and get some sleep, but this was much more important. She lowered her voice so that those around them couldn’t hear, leaning in a bit closer to the woman. “But it’s the easiest way to get it in here.” She explained with a hushed tone, licking her lips. 

Getting a cell phone inside the prison was not easy. Conjugal visits were the best time to put such a plan into operation; and Goya served as the perfect suitcase, in Macarena’s opinion. 

Goya was unsure - she was no stranger to trafficking certain things inside the prison, but usually only for her own gain; as most women in the prison did. But she’d been on good behavior; if she got caught and sent to solitary they wouldn’t give her the time of day at her next hearing. When Zulema had first brought the requests up in the courtyard, Goya wanted nothing to do with it - getting involved with Zulema’s plans always meant trouble. An unsure silence fell between them and Maca knew what Goya was thinking - what would she get out of such a risky situation? “I’ll get you £300.” Macarena promised after a moment, and the gears in Goya’s mind started working - she did owe debts that had to be paid. 

“£350.” Goya countered, toothpick hanging from her lips, “This body doesn’t come cheap,  _ flaca _ .” She chuckled lowly, and Macarena nodded in agreement- £350 it was. “And I have to do is give it to her?” Goya confirmed, making sure there was no loop hole in the plan that could possibly end up with her in solitary. 

“That’s it.” Maca nodded her head, using her hands for emphasis. They fell silent for a moment as a guard passed their table, changing the subject for a split second before returning. “It’ll be small; right into the condom and up as far as you can reach it. They won’t venture to deep if they think you’ve just fucked,” Maca explained quietly, swallowing as she tried to keep as stoic a face as possible so as not give them away. Goya nodded in understanding, moving the pick around her mouth and resting it on the opposite side in thought. 

“Just give me a date,” Goya shrugged, “and half of my reward by the end of the week.”

“Twenty five percent.” Maca shook her head in negotiation - she didn’t trust Goya enough to give her half of the money now and not run off with both the phone  _ and  _ money. Goya was quiet for a moment, thinking it over before giving Maca a grin, nodding her head. 

“Deal.” 

——

It had taken a much shorter time for Goya to be granted her conjugal visit than Zulema - for obvious reasons. 

It was only about two weeks later that the woman had been thrown into a room with Saray’s cousin, Django, who had hid a small cell phone into the heel of his shoe prior to his visit. He was not one somebody would mistake for a criminal - Django had short, neatly trimmed hair, with a pair of round glasses and the stature of a string bean. Had Goya been interested in actually having sex with him, it would feel like lying on a shopping cart, in her opinion. 

But the pair were able to get the required job done, and Goya made it through her strip search post-conjugal visit with ease - though that hadn’t stopped her nerves from just about birthing the condom wrapped phone from her body when Millán stuck her fingers inside her. Goya focused instead on making crass jokes, as usual, and drawing Millán’s attention away from the search. 

When she’d finally made her way back into the prison, Goya searched out Zulema, who was laying in her bunk, awaiting for Goya’s return from her visit. Saray lounged on the bed beneath her, tossing a ball of paper up in the air and catching it out of boredom. When Goya appeared in the doorway of Zulema’s cell, both she and Saray sat up instantly. “He better be in one piece, Free Willy.” Saray hissed with her infamous glare, and Zulema put a hand on her shoulder to draw her back to the task at hand. 

“Give it to me,” the older woman growled in slight anticipation, holding her hand out expectantly for Goya. Goya chuckled in Saray’s direction with a wink - even though nothing had happened between the two, it was still fun to push the Gypsy’s buttons. 

“Reach into my treasure box of fun and get it,” Goya teased as she stuffed her hands in her pockets, turning towards Zulema. Zulema, on the other hand, found no amusement in the request and she raised a brow in caution as if to remind Goya of the scar she’d left on her stomach the last time the other inmate had tried to force her hand. Goya sighed, looking about the room as Saray stood guard by the door, making sure no guards were making their rounds. Goya reached down into her pants, shoving her fingers as far as she could reach into herself and just barely  grabbing onto the end of the condom, pulling the cell phone out. 

Unwrapping the device from the rubber, Goya handed it off to Zulema, who moved the object around in her hands for a moment before looking up at both Saray and Goya. “Get out,” she ordered, and both women were gone in seconds, making their way down opposite ends of the corridor. Zulema climbed up onto her bed, grabbing a book from her shelf and using it as a shield as she flipped the phone open. One text message sat waiting for her, from a number she didn’t recognize - Macarena’s throwaway number. 

_ Call me.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in you guys; your comments and support mean the WORLD to me 
> 
> Also, some chapters will be time jumped and others won’t - I’ll let you know which are at the beginning of each chapter. This chapter takes place from when the last one left off!

Her fingers fumbled just slightly in anticipation as she dialed the number, glancing out the door from her bed in caution. The other line rang for a few moments before Zulema thought it wasn’t the right time - maybe Maca was busy - before she heard the sound of her voice saying hello. “ _ Rubia,” _ Zulema spoke, but Macarena could just about  _ feel _ Zulema’s smile on the other line - even if the woman would deny it. 

The first phase of the plan had been completed - and it was easily the easiest part of it. The pair had a long road ahead of them in terms of getting Zulema out of Cruz del Norte, but they were no strangers to time. “Can you talk? Are you doing alright?” Maca asked with slight worry in her tone, and Zulema rolled her eyes at the blondes constant worrying - not that it wasn’t understandable. 

“Having the time of my life.” Zulema replied dryly, leaning back against her pillows as she kept her eyes glued to the doorway. Maca’s low chuckle could be heard through the speaker and Zulema cursed internally that she wasn’t there to see it - another reason why she wanted her freedom more than anything. 

“Hang in there. We’re just getting started.” Maca promised with a smile, and from her place in her kitchen the woman rummaged through her fridge, putting away groceries. The idea of involving herself back in the world of crime would have never crossed her mind had she still been serving time - but it seemed that Macarena only valued her own freedom when it was with Zulema. “You should be receiving a few photos from another number tomorrow,” she went on to clarify, trying to find a place for her yogurt. 

Zulema nodded in understanding, running through the plan in her head once more as she listened to the activity on the other line; she could just imagine Macarena struggling to fit all of her healthy, organic options into one small fridge in her new apartment - much less extravagant than the one she’d had before being sent to Cruz sel Sur. With her criminal history, Macarena struggled to find jobs willing to pay her even half of what she’d made working for Símon. 

A small, mischievous grin found its way to Zulema’s lips a second later, and she took a small breath. “I’d rather see pictures of you.” She offered into the phone quietly, loving the way she could hear Maca’s heart beat speed up at the sound of her request. The blonde couldn’t help the smile that grew on her own lips as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, placing two cartons of milk on a shelf. 

“Well you’ve obviously not taken your time to explore your new device,” Maca offered suggestively, as if there were something on the phone that Zulema would be very pleased to find. The older woman bit down on her tongue - of course Maca would do something like that. 

“Who has the time when you’re demanding I call you as soon as I open it up?” Zuema teased, wanting nothing more in that moment than to go right to the photo albums on the phone and see what the other was talking about. Macarena chuckled lowly in the phone, nodding her head as she closed the refrigerator. 

“You’re right, I can be very strict.” She hummed in amusement, and Zulema held back any comment she may have had about the scenario. “But last I checked, you didn’t so much have an issue with that.” Maca added with a smirk, opening up one of the cases of strawberries she’d bought and running it under some water. Well; she was right about that. 

“And what should I be expecting when I explore?” Zulema asked with faux curiosity, fingers itching to reach out and touch Maca through the phone. Macarena shrugged and gave a small huff of non-chalance, as if she had no idea. 

“I guess you’ll just have to go and find out.” She replied, popping a strawberry in her mouth and sucking on it for just a moment, making sure Zulema heard the sound of her tongue running across it for effect. The inmate groaned inwardly, taking a moment to compose herself as she fell quiet in thought. Outside of her cell, she could hear the sound of her fellow prisoners going about their day as usual, and she knew wouldn’t have very long until a guard came by just to check up on the cell block. “Let me let you go,” Maca suggested a moment later, breaking the silence and knowing that there was never enough time in prison. “Keep yourself out of trouble, yes?” She asked hopefully, taking another bite from the red fruit. 

“ _ Adios, Rubia bonita.”  _ Zulema replied back with a slight shake of her head, purposely ignoring Maca’s request, knowing it got on the woman’s nerves. The line went dead a moment later, and

it only took Zulema about fifteen seconds before she was moving through the phone and into the picture section, positioning the phone back between the pages of her book. 

The sight that greeted her had the woman cursing up towards the ceiling, eyes closing for just a second before she realized she didn’t want  to miss a moment of what she was looking at. A mix of photos of the blonde stared back at her; some cleaner than others but Zulema couldn’t complain. One image in particular, a nude photo of Macarena posing in front of a mirror, kept drawing Zulema’s attention and she couldn’t tear her gaze from it. 

A moment later she received a text message  from the very subject of the photos. 

_ ‘Enjoying yourself?’ _

Of course Maca knew the first thing Zulema was going to do was look through the pictures after she’d suggested it - that was the goal of all the teasing, after all. Zulema bit down on her cheek to keep from smirking, fingers working across the keyboard in amusement as she shook her head. 

_ ‘Perhaps more than I’d like to admit, _ ’ Zulema replied a second later, continuing to pass through the photos with her breath caught in her throat the whole time. The familiar rush of arousal through her body made her uniform suddenly twice as hot. 

Not even thirty seconds later Zulema received another message, this time containing a photo. She opened it without hesitation, being met

with a selfie of Macarena laying down in her bed, a white sheet pulled over her body. It was very clear that she was naked beneath the white fabric, and Zulema sighed into the air with desire. 

_ ‘Maybe if you tell me how much you’re enjoying yourself I’ll show you how much I’m enjoying myself.’ _

Zulema’s smirk widened into a full smile at Maca’s words, so much so that her cheeks almost ached. Had somebody told her she’d ever end up acting like a school girl over a text message from somebody like Macarena, she simply wouldn’t have believed them - Zulema Zahir was not one to be caught up in any type of adolescent behavior like  _ sexting. _

And yet, there were many things she found herself doing for Macarena that would have never crossed her mind before. 

With a tentative look towards the hallway, Zulema’s hand moved the hem of her tank top up past her chest and took a quick selfie, sending the risqué photo of her hardening nipples and smirk back towards Maca, along with  _ ‘Good enough?’ _ and awaiting a response as she pulled her shirt back down. It wasn’t that she’d  _ never  _ engaged in such an activity; but it was different with Macarena - fun, actually. 

It took a moment, and Zulema tried to distract herself while waiting by running her eyes over the words of the book surrounding the phone, not paying attention to any of them. 

_ ‘An understatement.’  _ Was Macarena’s reply, and Zulema rolled her eyes as if she didn’t believe the blonde - but it had always been that way when Maca complimented her. A second later another photo came through, and Zulema licked her lips as she felt the slight dampness of her underwear begin to form. Without hesitation she slipped a hand down into the front of her pants and began to lightly touch herself, eyes focused on the image of Macarena’s perky breasts on the screen. 

It wasn’t ideal, but it was the second best thing that they had - but the most convenient. Zulema couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of the plan too - just as an added bonus that came with having a cell phone. 

_ ‘I wish I could hear you right now,’ _ Maca texted, and Zulema had to chuckle slightly at the idea that the blonde knew her well enough to understand what it was she was doing. Zulema’s breaths turned a bit more hurried as she continued to rub at her clit, speeding up just slightly.  _ ‘I wish I could feel how wet you’re getting, thinking about my tongue buried deep inside you,’ _ the blonde continued to write,  _ knowing  _ that Zulema was reading and hoping to help her achieve climax as quickly as possible.  _ ‘Fuck, I miss the taste of you.’ _

It didn’t take very much after that, and it was only a few seconds later that Zulema was coming from her own fingers. She allowed herself some time to ride out her orgasm, breathing Macarena’s name into the warm air as the image of her tongue inside her continued to roll through her head. When finally she had found some of her control again, Zulema gathered some of her wetness into her fingers and snapped a photo of it, sending it back to Macarena with a self-satisfied smile. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so incredibly frustrated with mobile uploading on this site that I can’t even leave a happy message because it’s one a.m, I’m absolutely exhausted and I’ve tried uploading this chapter about six times. Sorry for the wait, hope you guys enjoy.

Zulema had been on edge most of the morning. Maybe it was the waiting for the promised photos; knowing she couldn’t put the plan into action until she received them created a lack of control in her mind, and she didn’t like that very much. Part of her wanted to reach out and snap at Maca -  _ get it done faster _ \- but she knew it wasn’t the blondes fault; Macarena had don e her part for now and it was up to Zulema to carry out the next portio n . 

“Zahir. Eat.” A guard nearby ordered as he noticed t he food still piled onto her tray, her focus elsewhere. She was too preoccupied with the notion that eating would distract her from her intended mission, picking a fork up didn’t even cross her mind. Still, knowing good behavior was important in order for her to carry out the plan, Zulema picked up her utensil with a frustrated sigh, moving the food around on her tray.

After several grueling minutes forcing food down her throat (and realizing that she was, in fact, hungry) Zulema pushed her tray away, counting the minutes until they were dismissed from the cafeteria and off to do their own things. 

Once back in her bunk, her fingers fished around the inside of the empty mattress beneath her bed, pulling the cellphone out and holding her breath slightly in anticipation. To say she was pleased to find two photo attachments from a new number was an understatement. The prisoner climbed up onto her bed and tossed her blanket over her head, knowing that she didn’t have much time before her fellow inmates would be trickling into the cell. 

Flipping the phone open, Zulema opened the messages and examined the photos carefully. 

The first showed a small girl, no older than four, playing in a sandbox. Beside her was a face Zilema recognized - it was strange to see Millán out of uniform and almost  _ relaxed _ . Zulema would have even thought the woman looked happy. The photo was taken close enough so that Zulema could make out their facial expressions - a look of pure joy on the child’s face - but it was clear the subjects of the photo were not aware of the photographers presence. 

Zulema took the time to inspect every single detail of the photo. In her head she noted the clothing, the location - one she was familiar with - and most importantly, the child. After a few moments she popped her head out from beneath the blanket to make sure she was still alone, before slipping back beneath the covers. 

The second photo had to have been taken a few moments later - this time Millán was out of the picture, and the image focused on the child instead. What took Zulema back a bit was the fact that the little girl seemed to be making eye contact with the camera - the expression on her face was so clear Zulema could swear that she knew she was being photographed. And yet the young girl was smiling. 

Another text message was waiting to be opened, and it only contained one word. 

_ Marisol.  _

Zulema could infer that it had to be the little girls name; and it had crossed her mind that she didn’t even know Millán had a family. But that was the way the guards preferred their lives to be kept. The woman quickly typed out a short response to the sender to show that she had received the pictures, allowing herself another moment to memorize the details of them and ingrained them into her mind. 

The phone buzzed a moment later and it wasn’t from the number she was expecting - instead Macarena’s number lit up the screen and Zulema didn’t hesitate in picking up the call. “Hello,” she breathed quietly into the receiver, not wanting to be heard by any passing ears. 

“Hi,” Maca’s soft voice spoke through the phone, and Zulema could tell the woman had just woken - it was only around nine in the morning. The sound of her sleepy voice had Zulema longing to be beside her, and she fought the tug of emotion in her body at the thought that Macarena was waking up without her. “Did the photos come through?” Maca asked sleepily, and Zulema had to resist a grin at the small yawn she heard a second later. 

“No faster than promised,” Zulema answered with slight teasing, and Maca gave a slight chuckle in response as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. It was a moment later that Zulema heard footsteps outside of the cell, “Wait,” she whispered before pulling the phone from her ear and shoving it beneath the covers, waiting to see who it was. Saray entered a moment later, eyeing the older woman with curiosity as Zulema visibly calmed a little. 

“Are you okay?” Macarena asked on the other line, concern laced through her words as Zulema brought the phone back up to her ear. 

“It’s just Saray,” Zulema answered, not taking her eyes from the young prisoner as Saray sat down at her bed and began to prepare herself to get into the shower. At the words Saray made a mocking face, sticking her tongue out towards Zulema as she took her shoes off. 

“Okay, I just wanted to check in.” Maca replied quickly, wanting to get off the phone, knowing that Zulema would be focusing more on her voice than the activity going on around her now that Saray was there to keep an eye out - dangerous, in Maca’s opinion. “Text me with updates. Have a good day, I’ll see you soon.” The blonde grinned through the phone, and Zulema struggled to keep the smile from her own face for the sake of the Gypsy across from her. 

“See you soon,” Zulema replied, hanging up the call and biting on the inside of her cheek as she heard Macarena press her lips against the receiver. Saray watched with a quirked brow how the older woman seemed even  _ flustered  _ by being on a call with the blonde; something that shouldn’t have bothered her so much but seemed to anyway. 

“You think with all the effort  _ La Rubia _ has put into this idea, we would be out of here by now.” Saray snapped with annoyance, shaking her head. Zulema scowled at that, glaring towards the other with disapproval. “What? I am wrong?” Saray continued with a shrug, standing from her bed and gathering her things. 

“You are impatient.” Zulema replied with a shake of her head, jumping down from the bed and stowing the phone back into the empty mattress beneath her. There were still many phases to go through; ones that Saray could only  _ wait  _ to happen before her freedom played a part. But Zulema was right; Saray was impatient to earn her freedom and see her daughter. The younger woman was quiet for a moment at Zulema’s words, tucking a towel over her shoulder. 

“And you are becoming weak.” She shot back a moment later. “But we are what we eat.” The Gypsy shrugged disdainfully, the dig at Macarena not lost on Zulema as Saray went to grab her bag of toiletries. But a second later, there was an iron grip on her throat as Zulema used all of her weight to push Saray up against the cement wall, the corner of her mouth twitching just slightly in concentration as Saray clawed at her wrist. 

“You are lucky you even crossed my mind,” Zulema hissed menacingly as Saray struggled to breathe. “She would have let you rot in here for another thirteen years without so much as a second thought.” She continued, fingers tightening just slightly around the others neck as she gritted her teeth. “ _ Entiendes?” _

And it was true - Saray had offered Macarena absolutely nothing during her time in prison, and had it been up to the blonde, Saray could have spent the rest of her life in Cruz del Norte if she wanted. The other had done nothing but make Maca’s time in prison hell; and that was more than she could say about Zulema. Saray was lucky that Zulema had thought of her and her freedom; but had Maca asked, Zulema would have left Saray in the dust without hesitation. 

Saray tried to catch a breath but Zulema only tightened to her grip as the woman’s nails dug into her forearm, her face beginning to redden slightly from the pressure. The Gypsy nodded her head with all the energy she had left, and Zulema waited only until she could see the light fading from Saray’s eyes before she released her grip, sending the woman sliding down the cold wall as she gasped desperately for air. “Get out of my sight,” Zulema spat at Saray’s feet, and the young inmate struggled to get her composure and gather her things before stumbling out into the hallway. 

——-

“Do it again,” Millán instructed as she passed through the laundry room, examining the progress of the days work. Zulema’s expression soured as the guard help up one of the shirts from the last load, looking it over with scrutiny. “It’s still dirty.”

Zulema bit down on her cheek as grabbed the shirt from Millán - it was perfect in her opinion - and tossed it back with the pile of dirty clothing, holding her tongue for just a second before smirking playfully. “Does your husband like when you order him around, too?” She asked with malice, and Millán was silent as usual as she turned away from Zulema to make her exit before a glint of mischief shined in Zulema’s eyes. “How about Marisol?” She called after the woman, and could tell that she’d hit a nerve when Millán halted in her step, her expression twisting just slightly beneath her stoicness. 

Lips dry, Millán turned back towards Zulema with a hard to read expression - but Zulema was all too familiar with it. Fear. It was an emotion Zulema played with often; and using a child was one of the best ways to win. “She looked very sweet in her green dress yesterday, no?” Zulema asked innocently, pressing an iron to a pair of pants and sending a smirk Millán’s way. “You should be careful, though. Sand can be very dirty; especially at the park.” She nodded her head matter factly. 

There was a silence between the two, and Millán tried to think of the best response. Instead, the woman swallowed and cleared her throat as she looked around at the other inmates, licking her lips. After a moment, the guard turned on her heels and made a quick exit without saying a word. 

Zulema grinned to herself, releasing a cloud of steam from the iron. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Zulema was not one to back down from a challenge. This was known by many; inmate and guard alike, so it was often the case that people tended to steer clear from Zulema whenever possible. That wasn’t, however, quite so easy when one was head guard and expected to keep even the most dangerous of inmates in check. 

Zulema could pick out the small signs of nervousness from Millán as she stared her down in the cafeteria, not breaking eye contact while she brought her spoon of yogurt to her mouth. The guard shifted just slightly under her gaze, trying to forget the past few days and all the off comments that Zulema had made towards her family. Millán worked hard to keep her private life private; having somebody like Zulema threaten the safety of that privacy put her on edge more than she cared to admit. 

The activity around them was almost silent in Zulema’s ears; with her focus only on one thing she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to her surroundings so often. She’d received more photos, more information, more steps closer to where she needed to be - away from here. And it was working. Not that she had doubted Macarena’s abilities to throw together a plan - not when she had been working on it for as long as she’d had; or at least as long as Zulema was sure she had. 

“You know,” Zulema cleared her throat as Millán made her round by her table, wiping her chin with a napkin, “I had put Fatima in St. Lucia’s when she was your daughters age, too.” She offered with a casual sip of her water, though the conversation of her late daughter did stir up something inside of her that she was not keen on accessing. 

Millán bit down hard on the inside of her cheek at the mention of her daughters preschool, and tried her best to hold her ground whenever it seemed Zulema had somehow picked another piece of her life right from her guarding arms - not guarded enough. 

She was quiet a moment, before turning towards Zulema with an attempt at a hardened expression. But the inmate could see right through it, knowing she was pushing the right buttons. Sandoval had done it to her, and while Zulema had hated him with every fiber of her being, she could not deny that he was a smart man that knew how to get situations to play out the way he wanted. 

But Zulema was smart, too. 

“It’s a good school, Millán. Marisol is a very bright little girl.” Zulema nodded in appreciation, bringing another spoonful of yogurt to her lips and taking her time in cleaning the spoon thoroughly. The sound of her daughters name coming off of Zulema’s lips almost had Millán’s hand drawing closer to her baton with the thought of teaching the inmate a lesson, but Millán’s pride as a leader was too great to let her emotions take over the situation and make herself look unprofessional - Zulema knew this all to well. 

The guard swallowed, hands clenching at her sides as she ran through the possible solutions to her problem in her mind - there was only one that made sense to her at the moment; so she took a deep breath before looking at Zulema with a hard expression.  _ Just walk away. _ She didn’t know how it was possible; Zulema received no mail, no visitors or phone calls other than Macarena - but even those lately had halted for reasons unknown to Millán. So where was she getting her information? And why wasn’t Millán doing more to protect the privacy of her family? Self doubt raced through her body and Zulema saw an expression on the woman’s face she hadn’t seen before - uncertainty.

“Tsk tsk. Such a pretty face to be thinking so hard.” Zulema tutted in disappointment with a shake of her head, noticing the crinkle of thought in Millán’s brow. She dropped her spoon and pushed her tray towards the other in boredom, before standing with a small wicked smirk. 

Millán wanted nothing more than to reach out and smash the trash across Zulema’s cheek; her eyes darted around as if to see if anybody was watching - Zulema caught this and arched a brow in challenge. If anybody was going to get in trouble for that situation, it would be Millán for losing control. 

Instead, the guard pushed Zulema’s tray back towards her, before turning away without a word and walking briskly out of the cafeteria, a fire in her step. 

——

It wasn’t until around ten o’clock that night that Macarena had received a message from Zulema. Half asleep already, the blondes fingers fumbled for the throw away phone she kept under the pillow beside her, screen lighting up with Zulema’s message in the darkness of her bedroom. 

_ ‘Not much longer now.’ _

It sent a small wave of relief over Macarena to know that they were that much closer - she wasn’t looking forward to the next few steps that had to be taken, but knew that in the end, those steps would lead the pair to freedom. 

‘ _ Try and keep it from the neck down. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that face. ;)’  _ The blonde typed back with a sleepy smile, and she could practically feel Zulema’s sarcastic chuckle through the keyboard. Maca turned over in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in thought as she waited for a response. Since having successfully gotten the phone into Zulema’s hands, Maca felt more at ease - perhaps just knowing that when given any opportunity, Zulema  _ wanted _ to talk to her. 

‘ _ So everything else is fair game? That’s cold, Rubia.’ _

Maca grinned to herself as she read the message, shaking her head in amusement at the question, just about hearing it in Zulema’s tone as it rang through her ears. 

Because Zulema now had the mobile phone and was gathering information on Millán, the pair had agreed that seeing one another for visits was more risky than not - the last thing they needed was Millán seeing Macarena and thinking she was involved in the blackmail Zulema was inching towards. So their communication via mobile phone was the best option that they had. 

Macarena was more awake now, making herself more comfortable as she adjusted her position in bed, a small smile on her face.  _ ‘You’re a big girl. You can handle it.’  _ She typed back, but the idea of it gave her a sickening feeling in her stomach - she knew Zulema could hold her own in a fight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry. Especially when the inmate was going to be weaponless  and just about succumbing to every blow given to her. 

_ ‘Your support is truly inspiring.’ _

That made Macarena laugh, and she suddenly realized how desperate she was to have Zulema out of Cruz del Norte. The woman seemed to make even the hardest situations a little bit enjoyable. Macarena leaned to the side to turn on the lamp beside her bed, taking a bright smiling selfie and sending it back to Zulema with a slightly goofy grin. These were the moments that she cherished most - it was almost as if they had a normal, typical relationship. 

_ ‘You look nice.’  _

Macarena didn’t expect anything more or less - it was Zulema’s way of expressing her fondness, despite lacking description. Macarena knew the sincerity of the words and took them as a great compliment. Any type of praise from the inmate was enough to make Macarena soft, and perhaps it was because Zulema was hardly that way with anybody. Another message came through a moment later. 

_ ‘Are you tired? Should I let you sleep?’ _

It took Maca less than a second to reply  _ ‘No,’ _ wanting all of Zulema’s time if she was willing to give it to her. Not being able to see one another in order to keep suspicions low was taking a toll on the blonde more so than the inmate, and Maca constantly found herself thinking of nothing but being able to see Zulema’s face again in person.  _ ‘Are you?’ _ She wrote back, remembering the nights in Cruz del Norte when her head just hit the pillow and she was able to lull herself to sleep in seconds because of the exhausting environment. 

_ ‘Yes, but I will stay up with you.’  _

The blonde felt a familiar tug at her heart as she read the message. Many people thought Zulema to be cold hearted and withdrawn, but it seemed that Macarena brought out a side of her that didn’t often get a chance to be seen. This was the side that she had missed the most. 

_ ‘Why? Cause you miss me?’  _ Macarena teased, but wasn’t expecting such a fast response from Zulema. 

_ ‘Yes.’ _

Nor such a direct one. Macarena’s smile grew twice it’s size; though she understood the woman’s usual shortness and direct nature, it had never been applied to how she felt about her, and it made Macarena’s stomach flip with excitement. 

_ ‘But you didn’t hear it from me.’ _ Zulema added a moment later, and Maca could swear that her cheeks were hurting from smiling. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for your patience! i finally got a moment to upload this chapter so i hope you enjoy it!

It was obvious that she had been getting on Millán’s nerves; that was clear from the guards behavior around the inmate, but it was working just as Macarena and her had agreed it would - Millán was getting _angry._

It was a rather short encounter. Zulema had been expecting it; she’d even planned out the smallest of details; being in the right place, at the right time, with the right words. It was so easy when the information was being served to her on a silver platter - surely it wasn’t _cheap_ on Macarena’s part, but Zulema would take care of that once they were able to see each other once again. 

It seemed that Millán definitely had a breaking point. It had been almost two months of Zulema using specific information about Millán’s daughter and her personal life, and with each comment she could see the guard reaching a boiling point that Zulema knew every human being had. Millán was no exception, and as a mother she worried constantly about the safety of her child; now more than ever. 

“Marisol needs new pajamas. She is getting too old for onesies, no?” 

The idea that Zulema knew what her daughter wore to bed put Millán in a state of panic that she almost didn’t understand; perhaps because she had never loved another person so much. Having a child changes a person, Zulema could speak to this, so it was convenient to use her knowledge in that sense. 

They were alone. Zulema had planned it well: get Millán alone where there were no cameras; it was easy enough to linger behind in the bathrooms after showers until the last inmate had trickled out and Millán had to wait until Zulema was finished and dressed before she could make her exit, too.

“I hope she enjoys the new ones that arrive on her birthday in just a few weeks.” Zulema added coyly as she slipped her tank top over her head of wet hair. “Five is such a sweet age. So innocent.” She sighed with nostalgia, shaking her head. “Naive. So friendly with strangers. Especially when they want to take her picture.” 

It seemed Millán had had enough. 

Zulema felt the baton to her gut before she saw it. It was a hard, clean blow and the woman doubled over onto the ground with a grunt of pain, crashing to her knees with the hint of a laugh hiding behind her eyes - the motion had set the entire plan into effect. Zulema hardly had a moment to retrieve her breath before she felt Millán’s heavy boot pound into her side, sending her fully onto the ground, sprawled out with a hiss of pain. 

It was not Millán’s proudest moment, but Zulema could feel the rage through her actions and the fire in Millán’s eyes told her that pride was not on the guards mind at the moment. This was a matter of warning; to let Zulema know that Millán was not to be messed with and neither was her family. 

A moment later Zulema was sure that she had broken _something_ ; the throbbing pain in her abdomen was no hullicination and she could almost feel the bones of her ribs moving around from the force of Millán’s boot over and over again into her sides. For a split second Zulema was certain that the woman couldn’t stop herself from going far enough to kill her - her rage was strong, real, and most of all, justified. 

Self defense was not an option; even if she had wanted to. Millán’s strength at the moment was almost animalistic; and Zulema could taste the tang of copper rising up her throat when Millán threw another kick into her back.

Millán grabbed the inmate by the shirt and pulled her up to her eye level - Zulema had started to cough up blood, spilling down her chin and neck. There was a silence between them as the older woman struggled to keep her eyes open, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she fell out of consciousness.

Millán hacked up a wad of saliva before spitting it into Zulema’s face, shoving the woman down into the hard pavement of the bathroom with a final sneer. Zulema’s head hit the ground with a _snap_ , and the woman was knocked out almost instantly. “Stay away from my family.” Millán spat with anger, standing up and looking down at Zulema’s now motionless body. 

A hint of a smile danced on the inmates face, as if painted on. 

Grabbing the walkie talkie from her waistband, Millán sighed in slight satisfaction - she’d released what she’d had to, but now she had to deal with the outcome of it. Zulema’s still body lay at her feet, blood dripping from Zulema’s lips. “Medic to the bathrooms, immediately.” She called into the device, knowing that if Zulema wasn’t treated quickly, it was very likely that she would die. And that was much more difficult to deal with than a few broken bones.

Millán knew she only had a few minutes, and she bent down to wipe her own saliva from Zulema’s face with her sleeve - evidence she didn’t need to be used against her. She would blame it on another inmate; many people had it out for Zulema and it would come as no surprise to Palacios that one of them snapped and cornered Zulema while she was alone in the bathroom. 

A small rush of panic ran through her as she took a step back, trying to put pieces of the story together while she waited. She didn’t see the inmates face; she had walked into the bathroom and just found Zulema like that and called a medic as soon as she had a moment to collect herself. It was believable, and it wasn’t like Zulema could argue over it. If Millán was lucky, she’d forget the whole thing.

She ran through the story in her head a few times before she heard the rush of feet outside, and a moment later Palacios and a medic entered the bathroom in a rush. 

——

_“Hi…”_

_“...so proud of you...holding on…Im sorry…”_

_“...had two broken ribs, it’s a miracle she’s even…internal bleeding, concussion...it’s too soon to tell...”_

A coma was relaxing. It was the closest Zulema had gotten to freedom since she had made her escape from Cruz del Sur with Saray, Macarena, and Casper. Sometimes she saw herself on the beach again. 

Sometimes she felt Macarena’s hand in hers. She could hear her voice, picture her face - a bright smile welcoming her on the sand, but she could feel the sadness in her words. Yes, this was what they had agreed on, and understood the risks involved - but Macarena couldn’t shake the guilt. Zulema was in here because of _her,_ and the plan she’d come up with. Perhaps she had underestimated Millán’s strength, but knew that if things worked out the way they hoped they would, Zulema would get her revenge when the time was right. It was even a fair fight. 

Macarena stood beside the hospital bed with Zulema’s motionless fingers resting in her own. She looked down at them thoughtfully, the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only thing bringing her calmness at the moment. It had been three days since the attack; Zulema had not woken. 

“I’m sorry,” Macarena repeated as she had the past several days. Her voice was a bit hoarse from crying - she was not as stoic as Zulema when it came to these situations - and the sight of the woman battered and bruised beneath the white sheets had her breath caught in her throat knowing that it was her fault. 

But still she came each day to see her. She held her hand, spoke to her in a calm voice, and began to promise her the world. “I know you’re laughing at my apology in your head.” The blonde smiled sadly, imagining Zulema’s eye roll at the sentiment - brushing off Maca’s apologies because they were not necessary. She had volunteered, after all. 

“They’re telling me you may not wake up for months,” Maca continued sadly, tips of her fingers lightly caressing the back of Zulema’s hand with a shake of her head. She was met with silence, but a small part of her hoped Zulema would reply. When she didn’t, she continued. “They don’t believe in you.” She added with a swallow, sighing. “But I do.” Macarena assured, squeezing her hand gently. 

Though Zulema showed little signs of life, the words did register in her head. Or at least some of them. All she was certain of was that Macarena was speaking; whether she was actually in the room or just a figment of her imagination was a more difficult thing to figure out. “I’m not sure what you are thinking,” Maca paused a moment, “ _if_ you are thinking.” She corrected herself, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “But if you are thinking, I hope you are thinking of a better life. With me. Away from everybody else; maybe somewhere warm.” Macarena smiled softly, bringing Zulema’s fingers up to her lips for a soft kiss. 

“Whatever you can imagine, I will bring to life.” Macarena assured the sleeping woman, wishing for nothing more than for Zulema to open her eyes and look at her. 

A few minutes later, the door to the hospital room opened, and Millán - one of two guards standing at the door for surveillance - popped her head in. “Visiting hours are over.” She stayed, her eyes never falling to the inmate in the bed that she’d put there. Macarena quelled the burning in her throat the sight of Millán, wishing to throw a punch straight to her face, but sighing. She knew she could not give anything away. 

With a last squeeze to Zulema’s hand and a kiss to her forehead, Macarena stood and brushed past Millán without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

Five weeks. Two surgeries. Macarena was beginning to get anxious, but she kept a tight hold onto the thought of finally being able to be free with Zulema. It would all be worth it in the end. Zulema hadn’t woken yet, and Macarena was concerned that the plan was going awry - she should have been awake by now, right? 

She had been visiting when she could; enough to make their relationship look realistic, but not too much that it would be suspicious. And Macarena knew suspicious. She’d stay for a half hour, maybe more - talk to Zulema’s still breathing body, so she didn’t forget her voice; run her fingers over her arm so she didn’t forget her touch. 

But today was different. 

“I won’t see you again for a few day’s, okay?” Maca spoke with confidence to Zulema’s sleeping form, brushing a strand of dark hair from the woman’s face in admiration. “But don’t worry - I will see you at the end. And we will be free.” She promised. Looking back towards the door where two armed guards stood, Macarena reached down for the tie of her sweatpants. 

Fingers moved in a rapid, practiced motion as the blonde slid the grey fabric down just slightly, plunging a hand down the front of her pants and wrapping her fingers around a small, black stun gun taped to the very inner top of her thigh. Swiftly, Maca stashed the weapon inside the lining of Zulema’s pillowcase. It would be used when the time was right - Macarena was only hoping that Zulema remembered the plan when she awoke. 

Leaning in close, Macarena brought her lips to Zulema’s ear. “I put it inside your pillow case; remember what we went over. Please.” She begged in a hushed whisper. “I have to go.”

When Macarena pulled back to kiss the prisoner, Zulema’s open, dark eyes stared back at her in exhaustion. Macarenas first instinct was to call for a nurse - but she remembered the plan and instead brought a finger to her lips shakily to instruct silence. Elated at seeing her lover awake from her coma, Macarena had to keep her excitement and relief to herself for the time being. “Close your eyes.” She instructed quietly, hoping no doctor or nurse passed by and saw that she had awoken. 

Zulema obeyed, shutting her eyes with a flutter to mimic sleep. “I am leaving tonight.” Maca began, and Zulema could sense the shake in her voice - they just wanted to reach out and embrace but this part was important. “He will come get you when I say so.” Maca swallowed. “I  _ won’t  _ know when the time is right, Zul.” Her voice was hushed, trying to be as quiet as possible. “I’m going to give him five days. You need to rest. Recover. Strike when the time is right. Five days.” She explained in a hurry, and she could see the other woman’s brow furrowing in concentration. She glanced at the clock. “This time.” 

Visiting hours were almost over; Macarena took a deep breath and pressed her lips to Zulema’s - the older woman mustered all the strength she could to kiss back, but the energy was low. Macarena didn’t mind doing the work. “Be safe. Be smart. I’ll see you soon.” The blonde nodded, stepping back. “...I love you.” Confidant, assured - Maca had never been so grateful that Zulema couldn’t talk back. 

The blonde left a moment later, and Zulema lay in bed - eyes still closed - putting the pieces together in her head. She had no sense of time at the moment. She didn’t know how long she’d been out; five days seemed almost impossible to count right now. She remembered a little bit of what happened, but mostly she remembered a lot of pain. But a lot of something else, too; she hadn’t known what it was until Macarena had kissed her goodbye. 

_ I love you.  _ Zulema hadn’t heard such expressions since she was a child; at least not sincere ones. 

Her free hand ( the other was cuffed to the bed ) wiggled the fingers in test, and she slowly began to get the mobility of her hand enough to press the button on the remote laying around in bed beside her. 

Moments later nurses rushed into the room, beginning to take her vitals and testing her state of awareness. Zulema despised the bright lights in her eyes,’all the questions - “Get me a nap for fucks sake,” - she just wanted to sleep despite having been in a five week coma. 

Her memory was okay for the most part. She had trouble remembering some past memories; but they weren’t important enough for her to be torn up about; and her mind was geared back towards the plan. Macarena. She remembered her; and just about most of what she’d said to her during her time asleep. 

_ I love you _ . There it was again.

She didn’t say a word. Other than not having the energy to speak, Zulema found that most movements hurt and there was nothing she had to say. The prisoner stared off aimlessly as the doctor droned on, his words just a myriad of blurred lines in her head. 

_ I love you.  _ Hopefully, five days wasn’t too far away. 


End file.
